


Tuscany Lost

by ashandcas (ashriddle4)



Category: Supernatural, Supernatural RPF
Genre: F/M, I AM SORRY, Oral Sex, PWP, Stranger Sex, i am not joking, kind of dom!misha, my one way ticket to hell, smutty af, this is celeb/fan I try to be good about it but skip if that's an issue for you, very graphic sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-20
Updated: 2016-05-20
Packaged: 2018-06-09 16:28:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6914671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashriddle4/pseuds/ashandcas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You get lost on your Tuscan vacation and you should definitely, probably, get lost more often. Misha/Reader smut-fest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tuscany Lost

**Author's Note:**

> Okay - I know this is kind of strange and nothing like I've ever written but I wanted a challenge and to play around with something totally new for me. Yes, this is Misha/Reader fic. Vicki is mentioned in this but it's established that Misha and Vicki have an open relationship. It's just like 3500+ words of a good time so enjoy :) Apologies to like Jesus or whoever this definitely going to offend (so much sex y'all)

You thought there would be something romantic about wandering through the Tuscan countryside without a map - like your foremothers. Okay, maybe not your foremothers precisely. According to that DNA test mom sent to ancestry . com, you’re only vaguely Italian. But whatever. That 14% Italian score is clearly not working like an internal compass because you are 100% lost.

Fortunately, the sky is blue like a melted crayon and the sun’s rays shimmer on the tall grass. Everything feels warm and golden, from the outside in. It’s beautiful. That eases the sting a little. Still, there’s that whole being lost thing, and you’ll kind of need to eat at some point. It’s been too long since you’ve brushed up on which wild grasses were edible (read: never) and you think hunting down a straggling goat might be frowned upon.

In the distance, a stone villa perches atop a hill. Maybe you could ask the residents for directions. The climbing vines and overrun dirt path leave you a little worried the place is vacant though, and has been for some time. So much for that.

Wearing little white ballet flats and pink dress with tiny straps seemed like a good idea when you left the inn this morning, but you should’ve worn gym shorts and that ratty grey t-shirt. Something about Tuscany, however, made you want to appear more mid-morning raw snacks on Instagram and less midnight GIF-binge on tumblr. Oh well. Your growing blister will teach you to deny your true self.

You’re not paying attention, off in your head somewhere, as you continue to walk down the path. You shout when a bike comes zipping past you. It’s nowhere near hitting you, but you’re startled. Your shout scares the guy on the street bike as well because he skids to a stop too fast and topples off into the grass.

You throw a hand up over your mouth and run up to him. “Oh my gosh. I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

The man shakes his head a little and pulls off his helmet. He tosses it to the side. He looks up at you, pauses and then smiles. He looks familiar. Like really familiar. But your heart is pounding so hard that your mind hasn’t caught up.

“No worries. It’s not your fault and I’m fine. I’ve been trying to learn how to dismount more quickly anyway.” You expected him to be Italian for some reason (likely because you're in Italy). He’s not. His accent is clearly from somewhere in the US.

You smile. “That’s certainly one way to do it.” 

You reach your hand down to help him up and he takes it. You tug hard, expecting him to budge. He doesn’t and you topple forward right into him. You land in his lap, sitting on his right thigh, your hands on his upper arms. His muscles are pronounced and hard beneath his t-shirt. He smells like sweat and cologne and Whole Foods.

“Fuck,” he says. “That was not on purpose. I’m sorry. I thought I was more ready to get up than I was.”

You smile again, like it’s the only thing you know how to do anymore. “Call it even then.”

The man doesn’t have any sort of grip on you so, even though you hesitate to move away from him, you do it without restriction. You sit on the grass beside him, the short skirt of your dress laid around you where most of your thigh is visible. Your evil mind betrays you and you imagine his large hand sliding up your skin. 

He’s got a wrist pressed down on his lap. His legs are crossed. If he was in a pair of jeans, it probably wouldn’t be noticeable at all, but his shorts are loose and kind of, well, short.

The man looks up at you. He’s damn attractive even with the funky sunglasses covering his eyes. His dark hair is damp with sweat and messy, his skin tan and red from sun, his cheeks covered in stubble. You swallow. How long have you been staring? How long has he?

You glance down at his lap again. Yeah, that’s definitely a boner. 

“Um.”

He blushes. “Shit, I was hoping you wouldn’t notice. I’m so sorry. I don’t know-“

“It’s okay-“ you say quickly because it is okay. You’re turned on too, and to be honest, if you had a dick, you’d be in boner-central now as well. This man is too good looking, they’re too much in Italy and the situation is way too meet-cute for anything else. If it goes that way, you’re totally not going to turn down hot anonymous sex with the random stranger you met in Europe.

You had wine for breakfast because you make great choices, and apparently, wine that early in the morning stays in your system longer because you kiss the gorgeous stranger in front of you. His lips are rough and little sparks sizzle from your mouth to your stomach. 

You pull back quick, realizing what you’ve done. “Sorry!”

He laughs. Okay, you really know that sound. “Don’t be, but I don’t even know you’re name.”

Heat in your cheeks, you tell him your name.

“I’m Misha,” he replies.

Oh. My. God. It hits all at once. All of those familiar pieces clicking together. You just kissed Misha Collins. That’s why it seemed like you knew him. 

Just to be certain that you’re literally this screwed you pull the sunglasses off his face. “Dammit!”

He frowns. “What is it?”

“You’re Misha Collins! And I was gonna have sex with you!”  Your eyes get really big. In no way, did you mean to say that out loud. “I mean, I thought about it, briefly, in passing. You know, this was kinda like a dime-store romance novel, right? The whole crashing into you thing and me being lost and poof random hot stranger.” You’re babbling. Not one of your most attractive qualities. “I’m babbling.”

“You’re lost.”

“Uh, sort of.” Not what you thought he’d put emphasis on but whatever.

“You were gonna have sex with me,” he adds. That’s more like it.

“Yeah - I mean, if you had wanted to - have sex that is - with me- I would have.” You shrug a little. “When in Rome.”

His eyes are narrowed and you can’t tell if he looks skeptical, weirded out or amused. “We’re in Tuscany.”

“You can’t have stranger sex in Tuscany?”

He laughs and it’s just such a good sound. “It’s frowned upon everywhere, I imagine.”

“Except in dime-store romance novels,” you correct him. Fic too but this couldn’t be less the time to mention that.

Misha relaxes back on the grass, hands braced behind him. He’s still so close to you. “But you won’t have sex with me now. Because I’m Misha Collins and not an anonymous man who probably needs to take bicycle touring off his resume.”

“Well, I’m a fan, and I doubt you have sex with fans.”

“It would definitely be a first.” He smirked. “Though how much of a fan could you be? You didn’t recognize me.” He’s not wrong. You didn’t.

You both look over. Your eyes meet and you smile. So does he, like your smile is contagious. You blink slowly and bite your lip, caught up in the moment. When you get a hold of yourself, you look away. “Wait, don’t you have a wife?”

“Again, you’re proving to be a terrible Misha Collins fan. I have a wife. She’s fantastic. The best actually. Our relationship - it’s a free love sort-of thing.”

Okay, look. You knew that. You just needed to be certain because ladies take care of each other. “Right.”

“For the record,” he says your name. It’s a wonderful sound when he says it. “If you would have asked me, before all this, I would have said yes.”

“To what?”

“To sex.”

“Oh. OH.” You move a little closer to him. “I think there’s a loophole in all of this.”

Misha shakes his head and looks at you, his gaze intense. “What’s that?”

“I was gonna have sex with you before I knew who you were, and you were going to have sex with me before you knew I knew who you were. A loophole.”

Your heart is pounding hard enough you can hear it in your head now.

“A loophole,” he says. Misha puts a hand on your shoulder and rests his thumb on your neck. He leans in a bit. “This okay?”

Your mouth is dry. Holy fuck. Holy-double-fuck. This is happening. “Yeah.”

Misha kisses you this time, and it’s so good. You’re on fire with it, pulling into him without a thought. Both of his hands rest on your neck and your fingers are biting into the grass. He’s so strong but gentle. In total control. You love it when he teases your lips with his tongue. You open your mouth and let him in. He kisses expertly. Just light flicks inside your mouth. Something small and steady to remind you. He’s got this. You’re with Misha, and he’s got this all under control. 

Suddenly, Misha presses you back into the grass. He’s not on top of you - just by your side. Kissing. His lips move from your mouth to your cheek. They trace their way down your neck. He stops, pauses, breathes in, like he’s smelling your perfume. That is so damn hot. Then he just keeps kissing until he gets to your collarbone and he bites at it.

“Fuck!” you shout and arch into it.

Misha growls against your skin, and he bites you again. This time you whimper because like what the hell else does someone do under the circumstance? 

“That’s a sexy sound,” Misha says where you can still feel his lips. 

Suddenly, you want to get your hands all over him. You run your fingers over his back, over the shirt, feeling his bones and muscles, the peaks of his shoulder blades. You slide your hand into his hair and pull his mouth back to yours. This time you’re the one licking into Misha’s mouth. 

His hands are on your arms, smoothing up and down them as you kiss. They’re rough. It’s obvious he works with his hands. Still holding onto that burst of bravery, you slide your hand over Misha’s hand and push it off your arm to your right tit.

“Do you want that?” you whisper against Misha’s lips.

He softly squeezes, and you arch into the perfect touch. 

“I want all of you. What are you willing to share with me?”

“Right now,” you whisper, “Everything.”

You guide his fingers under your dress and tiny lace bralette. 

 

Misha tilts your head back and sucks a hard bruise into your neck. You groan way too loud for the whole being in public thing, but Misha doesn’t seem to mind. His hands slips the rest of the way underneath the bralette and he pinches your little nipple. Your tit fits perfectly in his hand and he knows just what to do with it.

“Can I fuck you here in the grass?”

You tense. You kind of knew that this is where this was going, but it’s still unnerving. Not the sex part. You’re so on board with the sex part. But the outside, where anyone could walk by, part. I mean Misha’s the only person you’ve seen all day and you’ve been out here for several hours but still. When he kisses under your right ear though, the answer is easy.

“Please.”

“You’re wonderful,” he whispers.

Misha cradles your back and sets you up again. He looks down at your chest. “Let me see.”

Shaking from excitement, you reach up and slip the little straps down, leaving just the black-see-through lace. Misha pinches your left nipple through the fabric, pulling on it hard. Its so damn much so you look away.  Gently but firmly, he pulls your face back to him. 

“Watch me while I do this to you.’

“Misha,” you whimper.

“You want me. Don’t hide from it.”

He’s right. You have nothing to be embarrassed about. You train your eyes on his as he teases your hot skin through the lace. Slowly, you pull off the bralette. You honestly can’t believe you’re doing this. You can’t even imagine how many city ordinances you’re breaking at the moment. 

You’re bare-breasted in front of Misha and a curious bird that’s taken up residence in the nearby tree.This is without a doubt the wildest thing you’ve ever done and you could not care less. It’s amazing.

Misha groans. “Beautiful.” He darts forward and kisses you again. It’s amazing - better than the times before because he’s got those massive hands on your soft skin, tracing between your breasts to your navel. He pulls his mouth away from yours and you whine at the loss of contact, but then his tongue is on your nipple. Soft and warm. Then he bites and tugs and you’re arching up. It hurts, but the right kind of hurt, the kind you chase. 

He pulls you into his lap and you can feel his hard-as-hell erection against your ass. The angle makes it hard for him to keep sucking your nipples so he kisses you on he mouth again, all hot and wet. 

You press down on his dick. Misha grinds back towards you. You’re both kissing and growling into each other’s mouths. 

“More,” you manage to say. 

Misha firmly moves you off of him and for a moment, you think you’ve done or said something wrong because he’s standing up, towering over you and you’re on your knees in front of him. Oh, shit. It’s fucking delicious sight and you are all in.

He tugs his shorts down just enough and pulls out his dick. It’s hard and red and there’s a little drip of pre-come at the tip. Misha traces it across your lips. You open your mouth but he pays that no mind and just keeps going. He runs the tip across your cheek to your eyes and softly down the other cheek. You lean into the touch. Eventually, he brings his dick back to your mouth and presses it inside. It’s wider than it seemed. Your lips stretch around it. You close your eyes.

“No,” he says. “Look. This is amazing. You don’t want to miss it.”

You do as he says and you’re glad you do. It’s is an unbelievable sight. Misha’s dick sliding in and out over your lips, pressing down onto your tongue.

“Can I put it in your throat?” he asks. Almost like he’s worried or embarrassed. You pull off him.

“It’s been awhile, but yes. Just go slow.”

“Squeeze my leg if you want me to stop and I will.”

He pinches your bottom lip. It’s swollen, sore and tender. The touch is almost too much but you want it. Misha pushes his dick back into your mouth and slowly slips it in as far as he can go. You’re relaxing, breathing through your nose. His hands keep your head locked against him. Your nose buried in dark-brown curls. 

He groans out, “Swallow, please.”

You tense. You’re kind of afraid he’s gonna finish in your mouth. Something you wouldn’t mind if you didn’t want so much more from him. You swallow anyway.

“God, yes,” he says. “Fantastic.”

Pride bubbles up in you and you keep doing it, drawing out all these dark and delicious noises.Misha suddenly pulls out. He’ smiling.

“Got me a little too close, and there’s so much more I want to do with you.” Thank God.

Misha kneels down in the grass with you. He kisses you softly. Your lips are aching, but you don’t want him to stop. He lays you back in the grass and kisses his way down your torso. Misha pushes up your skirt slowly, watching your face the whole time until he turns his head and licks the inside of your thigh.

Without thinking, you lift your hips and push toward him.

“I’ve got you,” he says. “Don’t worry.”

You’re wearing soft cotton white panties with little pink flowers. He kisses them and then tugs them down with his teeth. He pulls them off the rest of the way with his hands and then just bends your knees up and stares. Your instinct is to close your legs because isn’t looking just like rude or something. Misha’s strong enough to keep your legs apart. You blush all over.

His voice is so fucked-out. “Do you really want me to stop looking?”

You think about it and swallow. You shake your head. “It’s just a lot.”

“I know, but you’re beautiful there, and I try to never take beauty for granted.”

Misha keeps his eyes on you there, running his fingers over the sensitive skin. You’re wet and he runs his fingers through it. You gasp. It’s so good. How is it so good? You can tell how experienced he is. I mean, you are too, but he’s like - he was built for this. For taking people apart piece by piece and rebuilding them. You read somewhere that he was into carpentry - right now, you completely believe it.

Misha mouths over your clit, his tongue gifted. You’re squirming and tensing and your hands grip into his hair, keeping him right where you need him. His mouth right there, right where it feels like spinning and spinning and coming apart. Those fingers of his slide up your thigh until one of them presses inside you easily. You’re wetter than you ever remember being and you shout. Misha’s free hand clamps down on your mouth.

“Shh, beautiful,” he whispers. “Remember where you are.”

He’s right. You’re lying in a field of grass, cool on your back, the bright blue sky above you. There’s a path that runs right by here. You’re alone here with Misha right now, but it’s not a certainty that it will last.

“Sorry,” you whisper.

“I wanna hear your sounds, but keep them quiet. Just for me.”

He presses a second fingers inside you. Fucks it in and out. You whimper, “Just for you.”

Misha does this for a few more moments and it’s just too much. You’re swallowed up in it, in him. You’re brain is screaming more, more, more - you need him inside you. Now. You spread your legs wider.

“Misha,” your voice is broken, wrecked, from the cock you’d just had in your throat. “Misha, I’m ready. Do you have a-“ You pause. After everything, it’s still kind of strange to ask Misha about condoms.

He pulls his wallet of his pocket. His shorts are still halfway on and his shirt is all the way on. Quickly, he yanks out a condom and open the packet with his teeth. Misha hands the condom to you.

“I want you to put it on,” he says.

Trembling, you slip the latex over his big cock. He jacks it a few times toward your face. Then, he’s on top of you again and you’re just kissing. Soft and slow and he laughs into your mouth. “I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

You laugh back. “You say this now?”

“Don’t worry.” Misha kisses your nose. “I’m not backing out or anything.”

You gasp when Misha’s cock presses into you. You pull him closer because you want him closer. Badly. When he’s all the way inside, you both just pause. Breathe. Look into each other’s eyes. Everything falls away until it’s just the two of you, playing at being one for a fleeting moment.

“I want to fuck you now,” Misha whispers into your ear.

“God, yes.”

He pulls out and slams back in. It’s fucking electric. Your hips snap back up to meet him. Over and over again, he moves in just the right way, rubbing against your clit with the rough hair above his cock. Tingles of arousal flood through you. Your hands are up Misha’s shirt, taking in every little bit of his skin you can. Needing more, needing all of it, you tear his shirt of and get your hands on his chest You run your thumbs of his dark nipples.

Misha groans. You could eat that sound with damn spoon and never get tired of it. 

He’s kissing your neck hard now. You know he’s leaving bruises and you want him too. You want evidence that he was hear, that this was a real, beautiful shout out to existence.

You gasp when he quickly rolls over, leaving you on top. Your body is more exposed now and as he rubs up into you, you lean backwards, taut. Soft skin and curves. Anyone could walk by and see your tits bounce in rhythm with the way Misha fucks into you. Your dress is splayed around Misha’s crotch, covering where the two of you join as you ride him.

He grips your hair hard. You’re just staring into each other’s eyes. You watch as his eyes darken and darken, as your arousals grow with each other. That desire for more, more, more pounding through every part of you as he snaps his hips up and up, rubbing and holding you down in the perfect way.

“God, Misha, I’m close. I’m so close, please.” You want it to last forever, but moments like this flash and spark and you both know they don’t get to last forever.

He says your name. He says it over and over and over. Like he’s trying to make sure you remember that he’s hear, right now, for you. That it matters that’s it you he’s inside of. You come hard. Shouting. Your pussy clenching down around his cock, as that rush, that high, washes through.

You gasping for air when Misha pulls out of you. He hasn’t come yet. You would’ve known. The world isn’t unfair enough for you to have missed that . But suddenly you’re on your back agains and Misha is kneeling over you. He strips his cock and few time and comes all over your breast and up onto your chin.

Holy hell. Holy shit.

Misha collapses down beside you and kisses you softly. “So worth falling off my bike,” he whispers, still panting for air.

He breathe out slowly. “So worth getting lost,” you say.

“I know the way.”

You smile and lean your forehead against his. “I would be very grateful if you showed me the way. And by grateful I mean willing-“  to fuck you again. That’s what you were gonna say - a half-joke, but Misha kisses you hard and doesn’t let you finish. You’re more than okay with that.

 

 


End file.
